Amaranthine
by PhaerynTao
Summary: Funny how the only thing she could truly rely on became his letters. StarlingxStork
1. Meridian

Romantic comedy. Nothing epic. But this is still a big deal for me, because chapter fics are not my forte.

Affectionately dedicated to Defectivebrainstorm and Xekstrin. Surprise. ;3

(-...- = Stork.)

(~...~ = Starling.)

Don't own squat.

~o~

A lovely dawn sprayed like a hose through the steam covered window, encompassing the dullness of a green pair of eyes, battle torn and weary. Out in the middle of nowhere, it was easier to enjoy things slowly, easing into them like they could last forever, and if one settled down in the Now like a pro, then it _would_ last forever. The seconds would simply melt away, escaping the clenched binding hand of psychological time, and one could play on the merry-go-round of agelessness until they barfed up their happy satisfied soul. Unfortunately, it was not one of those moments. And quite frankly, Starling could do without the natural high. Slender pale white legs hung over the side of a cast iron Marie Louise bathtub. The tiny bathroom was stifling with intense humidity, threatening to cake her lungs with moisture. It was of no concern, however.

She was enjoying a study session, the buzz from her hand-rolled cigarette not hindering, but sharpening her skills and perception. Her disenchanted gaze flitted expertly across the page, deductive aptness never ceasing, never resting in spite of the calmness she felt from reading the verboten words. This kind of peace only came around about every hundred or so years, and yet she enjoyed it only to the extent of her cynical abilities. Her stomach was jumping churning in ways that battle and martial arts could never replicate, but it was already the hundredth time she had read the five page letter secretly delivered to her obscurely placed location. The war was over. Cyclonia was dead and gone. A decade had passed, and now there wasn't even word of resistances or small leftover armies from Cyclonis's forces popping up and stirring up trouble. On the outside, she made the necessary preparations and duties. Terras were reduced to rubble, while the people were stricken with a the smiling depression syndrome; happy on the outside that the battles had ceased, but still feeling the never-ending ache of loss and suffering clung to their wounded hearts.

Sometimes she could fool herself into looking down on those people, thinking that they were ungrateful for the peace to keep hanging onto the memories and the past like lifelines. But like the smart, intelligent woman she was, she knew better than to truly believe those days were easy to let go. It had been nearly fifteen years, and she still felt the urge to vomit when she remembered her comrades being slain. That was the beginning of the war; so long ago, it seemed. And whenever she chose to indulge in the sadness brought from such recollections, the bile still frothed and seethed in her stomach as her senses were assaulted by their spilled blood.

It was laughable at times. She probably had some kind of coping disorder. A mental illness. A…something something insert long medical word here. But there was a certain appeal of talking only of simple pleasantries; only tasks in the line of duty. Awards. They were so present, so dismissive of the painful past and the leering future. All of her worries just seemed to dissipate.

In those early hours of the morn, with the sun creeping up slowly on the plateau of Terra Mesa, Starling found that she was not in the past. Nor the future. Not even in the present. All three at once nestled themselves right in the center of her brain as she slowly, waveringly, read the pages of the letter grasped in her calloused slender hand. She no longer slept, and she couldn't tell why. With no time set aside for rest and fitful dreams, days were long, and her work efficient. Though, most of her time the days of late was spent either staring at the sunrise, staring at the sunset, staring at the sky, staring at her skimmer that was more or less put out of commission as of the last few months…

Or sitting in the bathtub, permeating in lukewarm water and getting somewhat faint by the thick acrid smoke from her fresh chemically absent tobacco, studying.

So what exactly was the woman studying? There were no essays, no pictures, no maps, no plans, and least of all no books, for she had thrown all of these things away years ago so she wouldn't have objects of tangibility reminding her of what her mind would never let her forget anyway. Long fingers brought the cigarette up to her lips again, inhaling, holding her breath, and exhaling, mist of herbal death mixing with the humid steam and rising to the grime covered ceiling. The parchment in her hand was starting to get slightly soggy in all of the humidity, which circulated in the bathroom like a sauna, but she just sat and read, biding her time like she was never able to before. In a carefree manner she skimmed to her favorite part of the letter.

_- You know me. It's hard to imagine me acting calm in any given situation, let alone when a flock of occucrows swarms around me ready to peck out my eyeballs. In an instant I panicked, and threw everything I could at them, but it was like they knew my every action. They KNEW, I tell you. So after a few of their beaks (which probably carried more diseases than I could ever name...the Zartaclan shingles will probably erupt on the surface of my skin any day now) sank into the tender nape of my neck, I finally plucked up something resembling courage from my gullet and BAM, I threw them my knapsack that was filled with arachnoid meat and they tore it apart like a pack of piranhas! Oh, the carnage was beautiful. But I still gulp down my spit at the thought of it...that could have been **me **they dismembered, after all. -_

Starling took a quill from the wobbly table next to the bathtub, dipping it in a black bottle and applying it skillfully to a fresh page of parchment. She had a habit of writing her reply as she read, for his letters were often long and frighteningly detailed. So much to take note of, so much to remember. So much to inwardly laugh about, because otherwise he would shy away from her playful mirth in the face of his close calls.

~ _And you pretend that the thought of your own precious corpse wouldn't have looked the least bit attractive as it was being torn apart. Dear you can be very modest. I like that. ~_

Her quill dripped with ink, as well as thick sarcasm that she always had harbored under her surface of straightforward earnestness. The sincerity would never die of course; the everlasting softness of her voice was proof that not even a battle worn warrior who had, at one point, become so used to death that a faceless cadaver only drew out the question from her jaded mind, 'I wonder if they have any useful supplies in their pockets'. Attention turning back to the letter, her gaze went from one that was tinged with sparkling amusement and mischief to an expression of soft affection.

_- Shamefully, I don't get much of a kick out of flying around risking my life without you around anymore. Aerrow is desperate about the reformation. Each night he stays awake in his room just plotting and writing. It's been more than ten years, and he has the most obsessive compulsive member of his squadron actually worried about his mental health. There are so many schematics posters taped to his walls it's almost as if Piper has infused some of her DNA into his skin when he wasn't looking. -_

Starling dipped her quill again.

_~ And what about yourself? Am I supposed to believe that you're handling the reformation beautifully as opposed to him? We're all suffering from a lack of purpose. Why do you think I moved myself out to this house in bumfuck nowhere? Out of all of you I know for a fact I needed the most rest. ~_

She could imagine his reply to something like that. 'So rest to you means isolation?' But she didn't cross it out. His honesty was something she valued greatly, and she knew that while it was a big part of his personality, he only authentically scolded those he cared about. Her eyes scanned the rest of his letter, heart fluttering in ways that even her womanly adult state suddenly felt like a young teenager struck by a pair of pretty eyes. _Nuclear yellow was more like it. _The kind that peered out at you from between the bushes in a jungle at night.

_- Don't expect this all the time, because I know how much you enjoy being bored by my near death experiences instead. But dare I say it, I miss you terribly. It just isn't the same without having that delightful burst of bat repellent go off each time you open your door. You probably wouldn't want me to, but I'm tempted to go out there and install several bat repellent devices in your house so you'll be well protected wherever you go. It wouldn't matter that Mesa is out in the middle of the sunlight all day long, they could come into your attic at night, and I don't think I can even stomach the thought (or...__**could **__I?) of you being ravaged by their disgusting and wonderfully dangerous pointy teeth. My neurotics want me to protect myself and everyone around me naturally, but I could never really decipher completely what it was about you that amplified that by ten fold. Not that you need my protection of course...remind me, how many times did you kick my ass in training? It's a strange feeling for me really. I don't think I'll ever get used to it. But funnily enough, I hope I never do. Take care. Write back soon. -_

Starling stared at the last few sentences blankly, but in her mind a hundred or so memories of his face and their many expressions flashed soothingly behind her eyelids as she blinked forlornly. His letters made her day worth experiencing, but it did not alleviate the aching pain in her chest that she always did her best to ignore. He spoke the truth; it _was _a strange feeling, and it wasn't bizarre exclusively to him. The urge to scribble down the rest of her reply wasn't imminent. She put out her cigarette in the ashtray beside her, noticing that the stick had burned all the way down and threatened to delicately singe her fingers. Taking her bottle of ink, quills, and precious parchment, setting them down on the small glass table next to the bathtub and moving them safely away from the edge, she stood. The water fell from her fair hued body in crystal rivulets as she stepped out of the tub and began drying her skin and hair with a single fluffy towel. In the mirror across the room she caught an unwanted glimpse of her body, once toned and muscular, now seemingly frail and almost emaciated. Or maybe it was all in her head, among other things that crawled into her vacant mind throughout her self-alienation.

Clutching the towel to the front of her torso, she knelt on her bony knees against the hard cold tile of the bathroom floor, water dripping steadily down the matronly contours of her autumnal face. She looked thoughtful, eyebrows dipped low against her third eye and lips parted in consideration. He never had a knack for showing his feelings so openly, but then again who these days were dumb enough to bare their soul in a time where caring meant having more to lose?

_I am. _

A dexterous hand gently picked up the quill once more, dunking it gingerly into the bottle and put the sharp inked tip against the page of her response.

_~ I have to say, I'm quite flattered by your honesty. Though I'm not one to deny that I too feel that strange sensation you're talking about. I'm sure you remember just what led us here. I know I certainly do, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. You shouldn't worry about me. I'm doing quite well for myself, and trust me if bats were in my attic I know just as many tricks as you do in getting rid of them. It's not news to anyone how compulsive and paranoid you are, but I had no idea how protective you could be. It's sweet. ~_

Starling paused, deciding, deliberating. It was quite odd, really. She never held back before.

And so this time would be no exception.

~ _...I miss you too. It's a quiet life out here, but something is missing. I'm begging you not to ask me to return there again. I left for a reason, and I'm not ready to see you all again. I remember how many times I kicked your ass, can you remember how stubborn I am? Don't fret though, I'll be back there eventually. That is, unless you don't find me first. ~_

It was then that a long and genuine smile stretched itself across the plane of her roughened lips.

_~ Since you're afraid to say it, I guess I gladly will. I love you Stork. See you around. _

_ Starling. ~_


	2. Betwixt and Between

_Ten years seems like nothing. _

They demanded that Starling return as the seventh addition to their team, their family, and this time she didn't have the will to refuse their childish faces sparkling in their late teenage glory. The room was still lavender, a color so ridiculously suiting of her aura. The racing stripe was still there too, for Aerrow simply couldn't resist adding a sporty edge to something so soft and conspicuously female. Unfortunately, the vulca bat repellent ball was still disgustingly present and spewed a repugnant odor every once in a while depending on the sort of fashion in which she opened the door, constant reminder of what garbage and ten week old dead mink smelled like. There was also a faint outline of where she supposed a frame once hung, quite crookedly she might add, suspicions amusedly resting on the possibility that it was of Finn in all of his rocking glory. One addition she did not miss too much, but she would have preferred that far more than that awful stench.

The stench that she had come to associate with a particular green helmsman who seemed subtlety entertained each time the repellent ball secreted a puff right into her face. At first she ignored it; anyone would have thought such a sight would be fairly humorous, but the more it happened, the more amused he became. And this was the initiation to her first lesson.

So, the first thing she did was observe.

His stature, his body, his face and its peculiarly erratic expressions, his pierced ears, four fingers and three long toes. He was definitely the strangest looking one in their squadron, but Starling knew better than anyone that looks didn't matter when it came to the skills and authentic talent under the surface. It took a lot of time for her to truly see that, however, there was something more than his neurotic somewhat maladjusted habits. She never understood why he would chastise her for touching a certain gadget, or fixing something that in her opinion was well in her capabilities. All her life she was taught to be cautious and to always have a well thought out course of action for every single possibility in a situation. Many times when concerning her habits of constant preconditioning the word 'paranoia' would be thrown around much to her dismay, especially when her choices of being prepared were often what kept their lives off the line. It became obvious to her that she did not know the true meaning of paranoia before she lived under the same titanium roof as Stork. While everyone else was well accustomed to his rather queer attributes, Starling knew she would have trouble adapting to him the most. He was the only other actual adult on board at the time, back when things were a lot simpler and flakes of the squadron's innocence still flickered like dying flames.

The second thing she did was avoid.

A glimpse of lime skin and she would stealthily leave the room without uttering another word. No clumsy exists, no awkward explanations, just complete silence, even if she was in the middle of a sentence and many a time she left Piper dead center in enthralling conversations filled with Sky Fu action scenes and which crystals they used to finally win the day. She was almost never on the bridge for it was one spot where Stork was practically glued to the precious handles of the helm, muttering to himself, or using up all the bottles of hand sanitizer despite the fact that the chemicals were a little rough on his amphibious skin. It wasn't until Finn and his big mouth finally pointed it out soon after she had exited the kitchen right as Stork entered, hand reaching into a fat blue jar stacked to the top with scrumptious sand cakes and stuffing several into his mouth.

"Aww man, she sees green and she wants to scream, guys!" said Finn, so obviously satisfied with his crippled rhyming sense of humor even though it was practically unintelligible with a piece of reheated steak squished in one of his cheeks.

Starling stuck around just around the corner, out of sight but certainly not out of mind, and she listened intently to their words that struck her inner chords in ways that were bound to occur eventually.

Aerrow's 'I seriously doubt that's the case'. Piper's 'I don't trust your judgment Finn'. Junko's silence except for some strange sloshing noises as he enjoyed yet another foreign meal that she wouldn't go within five feet of in fear of having her eyes sucked right out of her skull. It wasn't until the raspy eccentricity of _his _voice reverberated in a strangely profound way against the compact wall of the kitchen.

"Maybe she _should _be scared."

And the sound of his toenails clanking against the floor like a velociraptor as he headed back to the bridge met her keen ears as well as a series of dark chuckles.

There was a pregnant pause before Finn said, quite appropriately for once, "Am I the only one who gets creeped out when he says stuff like that?"

Starling headed down the hallway, her footsteps matching the rhythm of her pensive heartbeat. What was it about the Merb that affected her so much? Something in his ambiance just made her skin crawl ever so slightly. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, it was just so utterly foreign that she really didn't want to delve deeper to explore just where it came from. After all, so many years of suppressing all sorts of rotten decay under her surface taught her that a closer look at what was wrong with her was the fastest road to a self induced insanity.

She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't even want to be around him, it seemed. But they were teammates, and such a wish on her end was completely irrelevant as well as counterproductive. This was irksome to her, for she felt in some way eventually if she gave it enough thought it would hinder her. Did he truly know the perfect ways to evasively push her buttons or was this all in her head? Whether this was her imagination running amok she knew that there had to be a solution to this, some form of treaty that would at least put her personal misgivings at peace. Part of her wanted to be straightforward with him, tell him to cut the crap and that if he had something to say to her then he should say it instead of playing these stupid games. But the other half sought the retort that would inevitably come. _I'm playing the games? I'm not the one being an avoidant infant._

The day went on as planned. Starling had her well ordered checklist safely tucked into a concealed breast pocket and marked off her chores and affairs accordingly, just like any fruitful Sky Knight would, well with the exception of Aerrow and that peculiar ability of his to be systematic and erratic at the same time. Carrying old Cyclonian mining equipment, long since rusted, into a nearby landfill: check. Documentation on the _Condor's _crystal emissions: check. Sturdy lunch: check ("You're keeping track of what goes into your stomach too?! You women are a mystery to me." Finn so affectionately exclaimed). Replacing the Red Streak's exhaust engines: check. Help Piper polish the vapor ducts: check. Sit through another gruelingly childish dinner food fight: check.

Finish _"One Hundred Greatest Mineral Scientists to Ever Live" _by ample lamplight...

Check.

Starling yawned, back propped up against the wall with a thick book laying on top of her muscular stomach. Outside her window were clouds, unsurprisingly, but no stars since it had been threatening precipitation for days now. Her room was comfortable as ever, but she still had a lot of trouble falling asleep without any trouble. Too much security, perhaps, since until recently she was used to a rather extreme edition of couch hopping. Perhaps having a safe place to sleep each and every night was far too much for her to handle right now. Either way, she yawned again, unabashedly scratching her stomach under the deep purple tank top she slept in as she put the book on her bedside table. It was late. It was dark. It was assumed that everyone slept comfortably in their dorms except for her, and this made her feel strangely isolated despite being surrounded by her new adoptive family. Her stomach ached a little underneath her fingertips, signaling that she did indeed need to relieve herself. Starling fought the urge to roll her eyes; if there was one thing that irritated her, it was the need to cave in to her bodily needs. But annoyingly enough, she remembered that she wasn't necessarily doing anything productive anyway, so what was the point of getting worked up. Rising from the flat cot-like mattress of her bed, she was about to venture toward the bathroom, but then remembered that she wasn't alone anymore. These were mostly teenagers, mostly male, mostly hormonal and certainly ridiculous when it came to the most infantile articles such as underpants and crude toilet humor.

Opening her door as quietly as possible, she looked down both sides of the hallway, listening intently for any movement or voices, well...besides the sound of a sleeping Junko violently sucking his thumb and hugging yet another unfortunate stuffed animal until the plush thing's head popped off like a dandelion blossom. Tip toeing delicately, her long pale and cursedly bare white legs carried her down towards the shared lavatory, promptly locking herself inside and relieving herself. The toilet flushing was annoying loud, but who could ever be sure it was her in there anyway. Turning the handles of the faucet softly so that the water ran in a quiet stream, she cleansed her hands and once again peeked outside the bathroom door in the direction which the dorm hallway connected to the bridge,

Empty.

From only that direction.

Oh how the night dulls one's senses.

There was a triumphant gait to her first three steps out of the lavatory, for to her most immediate knowledge she had managed to adjourn three complete rooms down in nothing but a purple wife beater and a pair of black panties.

And then, rock hard, hunched, black because in the shadows there was no decipherable color. All at once, in the single unforgiving package of slamming into the admitted broadness of his torso and biting her tongue so she wouldn't yelp. First she was startled, then she was furious. Who on earth was up, ruining her grand master plan of stealth? She could have handled Aerrow's genuine smile as he kindly let her step aside, sparing her the humiliation. She could have even handled Finn's wide eyes and gaping mouth akin to that of a fat trout dying from a lack of water.

She could have handled _anything else. _

Stork merely stood there, staring at her with raised eyebrows and an open mouth as he took furtive glances at her current and somewhat lacking attire. Starling grit her teeth. He was the _last _person she expected to see, and certainly the last person she _wanted _to see. He partially seemed mortified to catch her so off guard like this, but deep down she swore she sensed a sickening delight. Funny, he never really struck her as much of a pervert, but before she gave him even more of a chance to take in the sight of the nearly naked female Sky Knight, Starling roughly pushed passed him, throwing caution to the wind and noisily locking herself inside her room.

Breathing heavily, putting a hand against her diaphragm and feeling the wretched steadfastness of her heart, she cursed him in a savage whisper. For a few minutes she continued to fume and clench her fists. Atop the guilt for her ravaged comrades, she seemed confident, and knew that physically she definitely had nothing to be ashamed of, but modesty was something that was taught to her at a very young age, and it would take a miracle at this point for her let it take a backseat. For the sake of assurance she haughtily threw on a long baggy t-shirt from the back of her dresser, checking in the mirror to make sure it at least reached the length equivalent to her knees. The sound of something rustling against metal made her catlike reflexes to react, and she turned her head briskly to her door. It hadn't been opened, but looking downward she saw something had been slipped through underneath. Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, she walked over and snatched up the piece of paper, unfolding it. Lo and behold, and she narrowed her eyes at such a prospect, the possible treaty she had contemplated earlier that day.

_- Sorry for being made privy to what your undergarments look like. But honestly, you should have remembered that I am indeed an insomniac. Be more careful next time. _

_Stork. - _


	3. Hark the Harbinger

Before she exited her room early that morning, Starling stared at herself in the mirror and demanded of her inner soul that she be able to look Stork in the eye that day without blushing, averting her gaze, or leaving the room whenever his avant garde persona was made present. Each time her mind flitted to the scenes that played out so vividly during last night she frantically shoved them back into a place of rigid logistics, where hopes of having a purely unembarrassed existence could flourish. Of course, one thing she learned about coexisting with her new squadron on the _Condor _was that humiliation was almost always right around the corner. Thankfully, the nervous chuckles would die down fairly quickly once they actually caught a glimpse of her livid expression underneath the slapdash array of pancake batter, or when she found her normally dexterous legs caught off guard by a random patch of slippery liquefied crystal slime from her own leaking Slipwing which Stork had practically _forbade _her to touch without his consultation ("Since when do you own_ my_ machines?"). This was so immature, so ridiculously juvenile, her behavior, and though on the outside she tried to remain subtle about it, the evidence was piling up for all of her companions to observe that she detested the Merb. No, that wasn't necessarily it, she reasoned with herself. She felt no hatred, no inherent negativity, nothing that would signal that she inevitably disliked him. But the feeling in her stomach, that fickle and elusive nervousness that bubbled up in her gut like a twisted ball of writhing snakes was driving her mad.

Fires that had failed to be put out during the last battle of the Atmos tore mercilessly across various terras, incinerating hundreds of thankfully abandoned homes but nonetheless needed to be extinguished. There was never much rain in that particular region, and the fumes enveloped the sky, polluting the air for the refugees who still sought to continue their lives in their war-ravaged homelands. That afternoon, the boys had gone out to snuff out the fires that spread, still quite alive and destructive, leaving a thankful Stork, and a positively pissed off Piper and Starling that they weren't asked for assistance.

"And when they get home, they'll give us this whole 'we didn't want to wake you up early' spiel. I swear to it, they will. The _one _day I decide to sleep in they take off without us." Piper huffed in infuriation.

Starling said nothing. Her annoyance didn't lay solely on the boys leaving without them, but the sheer fact that it was because her own hesitation of leaving her room earlier that morning that kept her from joining them on their newest operation. Of course, she hated being left home like an old fashion woman was to the dishes and housework.

"Well...you want to get started on cleaning the kitchen?" Piper offered softly.

_I just had to think of the bloody dishes. _

She sighed heavily and running her fingers through the vibrantly purple ponytail that laid over her shoulder. Once again not saying a thing, Starling simply reached over and put on a pair of dish washing gloves, glaring hatefully at the huge pile of dishes from the night before, courtesy of their small but boisterous male populace.

Over the course of an hour the two of them stood side by side over the grungy sink, scrubbing the dishes clean of grime and unbudging food crumbs, then rinsing them and sticking them in the wobbly strainer. Starling kept her eyes straightforward, her mind wandering vastly despite her near robotic perfection as she washed her portion of plates and bowls. She didn't notice it at first, but Piper sure giggled a lot. And coughed a lot. And sneezed a lot. And basically did a lot of different strange actions when there was a lofty bout of silence at hand. Starling couldn't help but smile at that which she found amusing. Piper must have been so used to constant noise that such peace rattled her comfort zone, for in the following moments she was doing an awful lot to make Starling open her mouth for once. And, miraculously, Starling decided to humor her.

"May I ask what you've been laughing about this entire time?" Starling asked, a tiny smirk plastered to her thin lips.

"Hahaha, oh goodness it's nothing." Piper started. _Coy. Very coy. _"I was just remembering that time when Finn almost got his head stuck in my crystal compressor. Half the guy's hair got chopped off, and then Stork had to yank him out. It wouldn't have been such a big deal if Finn hadn't been screaming like a little girl the entire time." She finished, melodious laughter comfortably filling a room that had been previously awkward and silent.

Starling chuckled a bit at that, reaching for another plate.

"Speaking of which..." Piper said thoughtfully, pausing to glance at her older female counterpart. "I hate to say it, but it doesn't seem like you enjoy being around Stork very much."

The instant his name was uttered, Starling nearly dropped the plate she was holding. But oh, she hung on tightly, yes she did. _Damn I'm good. _

"Why in the world do you think that, Piper?" She asked evenly, smoothly, praying that the girl's attentive eyes wouldn't notice her slight falter.

"Seriously?" Piper said, raising her eyebrow and the octave of her voice in an upward inflection. "You get shaky every time someone mentions him, you avoid him at all costs, you cant even go onto the bridge without looking around the corner, and then you act like you're surprised when you see him there, like he _always _is." She laughed, draining the cup she held of soapy water.

Starling narrowed her eyes, shoulders sulking a bit. "You noticed that, did you?"

Piper snorted. "If even Finn notices it, then I'm tempted to believe that its true. Sorry to say Starling, but you're not as subtle as you think you are."

There was a silence after that. Not an uncomfortable one though, like before. A thoughtful quiet settled over them, and Piper adopted a more understanding tenor, as though prodding Starling back out of her shell and reassuring her that she was done poking harmless fun.

"So really...what is it about him that makes you so iffy?"

Starling gazed at her, conveying all through just an expression.

"Well yes, I suppose this _is _Stork we're talking about, but he's really not that bad once you get to know him."

"I suppose." Starling said, bordering on sounding flippant.

"Throw me a bone here, Starling. Tell me, what is it?"

"He's just...unsavory." Starling pressed out, her voice slightly strangled. "He wont let me take that horridly smelly thing out of my room, he wont let me touch my Slipwing unless I practically ask him permission in writing, and for the only other adult on this ship besides myself, he certainly acts as childishly as the rest of you."

Piper shook her head, obviously amused much to Starling's discomfort. "I say you go talk to him. Get to know him. It's as simple as that. He's your teammate now. I never pegged you as someone who would be afraid of doing something as harmless as that."

"I'm not afraid." Starling said sternly, lips pursed deeply into one another in annoyance, for Piper had given voice to her own personal thoughts. This _was _juveile. With that, she finished her pile, and silently handed it to Piper to dry before walking out of the room and aimlessly into the hallway.

"Do you know where he is?" She called from outside the kitchen, purposefully sounding bold yet nonchalant. She was going to get rid of this notion that she was actually afraid of the Merb once and for all.

"Actually I think he's in his room for once." Piper replied, a subtle but noticeable laughter embedded in her dulcetly fond voice.

She didn't go there immediately. First she retreated to her room and began to root through her bedside drawers for a quill and parchment. It stared back up at her, blank, taunting her for such immaturity. She recalled Stork's sardonic reaction to seeing her far less clad than she would have liked, and narrowed her eyes in concentration and annoyance alike. It honestly would have been better if he had laughed at her state of unease like any other guffawing male taking, but instead he called upon her like a child who didn't happen to know any better, and each action she contemplated would just end up furthering his implicit claim. Maybe that's what truly bothered her about him; in her mind he was a condescending creature hell bent on complete and total control, something that as far back as she could remember belonged to her, and _only _her. What was worse was that he was as much of a child as the rest of them. That thought being addressed, Starling raised her quill and dipped it in a near dried out bottle of ink and scribbled aggressively on the page.

_~ Look...~_

One word. Hm, not so impressive so far, but it seemed like it would get his attention just fine.

_~ Look, I know you're not very fond of me, but I'd appreciate it if you would stop playing this little game with me and proceed in acting like the adult you are. This reformation means a lot to me and I'm sure it does to you as well, but if this continues both of our concentrations are going to go straight down the shitter. And if you don't keep driving me away from the hanger so I can't fix my damn Slipwing, then either YOU fix it, or suffer my fist down your throat. I'm sorry for being so forward and uncouth, but I'm tired of this thus far. I would have thought you would be as well. ~_

Starling looked down at what she had written so far in something resembling satisfaction. Almost touching the tip of the quill to her tongue in thoughtfulness, she then added:

_~ Also, your letter last night was not amusing in the least. If you tell anyone you saw me in my unmentionables I will kill you. _

_Starling. ~_

Quenched by her diction, she folded the letter evenly, walked into the hallway and listened intently through the door to the presence within. There was a pregnant pause of silence, perhaps a creak or two that had more to do with the _Condor's _awkward plumbing rather than Stork, but then a huge CRASH caused her to jolt away from the door, followed by a painfully moaned _'Owww'. _Starling raised an eyebrow, choosing not to speculate the hundreds of strange things that could be going on beyond the privacy of his door. At least she had verified that Piper was indeed correct about him taking a rare occasion to be in his room. Taking a deep breath, she bent down and slipped the note under the door and promptly walked back down the hallway in the direction of the hanger, making sure her steps were strident, because God damnit she was going to work on her Slipwing and if he had anything to say about it he was going to taste her leather-gloved knuckles.

It was several hours later when Junko, Finn, and Aerrow with Radarr clinging exhaustively to his shoulder returned, covered in grime and dirt and red faced from being blasted by everliving flames hiding in leftover debris. Upon finding Starling already in the hanger to greet them, Aerrow profusely apologized for leaving them behind, swearing that he rather three be left behind to guard the region surrounding the terra instead of them all going. She accepted his apology politely, but still had an air of coldness toward them all in general, coyness alive and well within her exuded energy. However she thought it far more suiting to her own demeanor than Piper who wasted no time in bitching at them, proceeding to berate them for being chauvinistic pigs in this supposedly open minded day and age. Junko's ears flattened in veneration and Aerrow awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, but Finn shot back with a tasteless menstruation comment that made her snap and cause a flurry of metal tools in his general direction.

A gravelly sigh sounded from the entrance to the hanger, and Starling noticed it before everyone else amidst the primitive entertainment. Her head turned its way towards Stork as he arrived, graceless posture hunched and eyes half lidded in slight amusement at such antics.

"Ahhh, I was growing more accustomed to the silence as time went on. What a shame." He said, mockingly disappointed.

"Maybe it still would've been silent if Piper actually had a sense of hum - FFF!" Finn began, and was then cut off by a wrench flying his way.

Aerrow, trying his hardest not to laugh lest he faced Piper's wrath as well, patted Finn on the shoulder as he headed toward the door to the rest of the ship. "Simmer down, man. You can't expect to have that perfect aim you're so proud of if you've got a big fat concussion from running your mouth."

Finn muttered something unintelligible but promptly went silent as he received a glare from Piper oozing with irritation. They all made their way out of the hanger, but when it came to Starling and Stork they actually made eye contact. Starling swore, it never failed to impress her just how much communication went on between sentient beings through nonverbal means, even if it was just in the meager timespan of a few seconds. Stork gazed at her in a way that any other dumbass would have seen as simply casual, but there was a quiet challenge in his stare, coupled with an amused smirk cutting his long face in half.

_Ladies first_, he seemed to say.

Yes she was the lady, but this was obviously a poke at counterfeit gallantry, and she didn't fail to catch it. She weight her options. She could refuse and make him go first so she could at least see where he was, and wouldn't have to deal with his eyes burning into her back, all the while inadvertently calling _him _the lady. Then she remembered the vow she made to herself that morning, how she would stop this timidity at every turn. Her decision made, she tilted her head and smiled demurely at him, promptly taking her place before him. So what if he was behind her; there was only a vulnerability if she created it, after all. As they exited the hanger she could have sworn she heard him emitting a series of dark and gratified chuckles from the depths of his throat. The strange shivers ran their course up her winding backbone, but she showed no weakness and promptly went to her room, parting ways with the rest of the squadron to personally congratulate herself on a job well done when the time came to test her nerves. As she opened the door to her room she stepped on something that crinkled beneath her leather boot, and looked down to find a note on the floor. Picking it up, she unfolded it with slight apprehension but mostly undying curiosity, and read what he had written.

_- It's not a big deal to knock, y'know. And I was never the one playing games. It's a ritual, really. I'm not really the easiest person to live with, and there are some people out there who cant even handle my most trivial attributes. I was getting a little nervous there, the possibility of you not being as tough as the stories said you were was starting to rear its ugly head. And the fact that you took back my skimmer from my psychotic obsession with mechanics is even more impressive. Well, welcome to the family of smelly repellent balls and menses jokes. Also, there's been a bad leak in the hull of the Condor and I'm afraid some of those damned fleas on the last terra we landed may have gotten through, so if your skin starts to erupt in black splotches do me a favor and let me know so I can disinfect the rest of us_

_PS. By the way, I was always rather fond of you, make no mistake._

_Stork. -_

Starling stared at the last sentence for several moments.

And then she smiled.

Clever bastard. Clever, sardonic bastard.


	4. Shattered Backbones

Starling counted, quite obsessively, many nights since the day she made peace with his presence. Then one evening, she fell asleep quite early, her head just barely touching the soft cotton of the pillow and her eyes closed without her permission. She slept deeply, soundly. Her slumber was often devoid of dreams, up rise from her subconscious suppressed with some of the most profound denial and freakishly controlling techniques known to mankind. The portion of her body still untouched by the guilt and pain that she simply could not begin dealing with couldn't bear to have such an onslaught on its peace, its supposed tranquility built upon the very foundation of hiding, the exact opposite of her headstrong no-nonsense character.

So unsurprisingly, that night she slept.

But peculiarly enough, as she slipped gently into the realms of absurd reveries and mournful traps, it played like a film, only without the grain, without the script, and though she hadn't recalled memorizing anything, she knew exactly what to say.

_In a world where anarchists sip the finest champagne and the nobles still find themselves tortured by burning wounds festering from a long lost love's searing bite, whether or not one is truly of patrician blood fades out of context, and out of mind. _

_Once, she was a queen of justice, and wielded her royal staff with deadly certainty. _

_With no purpose left within her bones, she could only wish, subdue that wish, and walk on digesting the pain until it left her body. Whether that was soon, eventually, or perhaps never. _

_Immeasurable beauty. Slick hands, glistening with sweetened death, cold to the touch and bitter as last week's tragedy. He writhed with acid underneath his azure skin, but upon the surface his movements remained erratic, bulging eyes straining to take everything in. _

_Starling put a hand gently on his shoulder, and his fickle gaze settled upon her as if it was the first time he had even noticed she was there. _

"_Can't you relax?"_

"_This grass is itchy, and the damn yellow sky looks like it may rain sulfur. It's not safe Starling, we need to get out of here."_

_His paranoia surprisingly did nothing to rattle her. She remained strangely placid as she merely glanced into in the sky, remarking it's bizarre hue before turning to gaze back at him, eyes half lidded in a repose she could not even begin to describe. _

"_I think it's nice, weirdly enough." Starling said softly, voice tilting in mournful ease. _

"_To each their own." He retorted in bitterness, blackened nails scratching at his skin protectively. _

"_This is my dream." She said, glaring pointedly at him. Suddenly his eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe what she had just uttered._

_He stuttered, surprised. "What did you say?"_

"_I said this is my dream, and what I say goes. I say this place is nice, therefore _you_ should feel nice."_

_Stork stared for a long time, blank, emotionless, as if she spoke a different language. "You're not supposed to like it here. Not just yet. It's empty right now."_

"_You're saying you know where we are?" Starling asked, doubtful._

"_No, but I will, and so will you."_

"_...You know, having you throw this cryptic nonsense in my face while I'm lucidly dreaming really doesn't help my sanity."_

_He smiled, his elongated face split in half by a strange demure glint. "Would you have it any other way?"_

_She stared at him for a moment, which could have been four hours in the real world, then turned away, shrugging. _

Starling's beryl eyes revealed themselves slowly, squinting in slits as the light from her lamp untouched from the evening before shined into her dilated pupils. It was early morning, _very _early, and even the ship in all of it's noisy regularity seemed to quiet itself out of reverence in the moments darkest before the dawn. She stared at her ceiling, the lamp still shining brightly and reflecting eerily in the glass of her window leading outside to the endless sea of clouds. The scenes of her dream played over and over behind her eyelids each time she blinked, trying to decipher the nuances of his movements, the inflections of his words, _her _words, and just why on earth she seemed so comfortable around him within her own mind rather than reality. Even more perplexing, why was she _dreaming _of him in the first place? The fact initially made her sick to her stomach, mostly because the thought of Stork ever finding out such humiliating information infected her brain like a tiny conniving virus.

_Give me a break._

She swiped her brow in frustration, taking a long deep breath inward to nourish starving lungs. She had given up trying to dissect why she felt this way toward the Merb, why this and why that. The fact of the matter was that she _did _feel this way, and she was driving herself mad by running in circles in an ocean of unanswered questions. The truth was, she could simply deal with the problem at hand. Or...or was it even a problem? What if it wasn't an obstacle? Rerouting her mode of thinking, she began to think about him in the most unbiased way she possibly could. His awful posture curved what would have been an even gawkier body, so perhaps he was agile, perhaps even durable. Hands twice as big as her own and three times as thick, they really did have a forte for picking apart any breed of mechanics, like a masterful surgeon in fact. His sense of humor, when peeled of its annoying layer of endless retaliation, had a dry witticism that she would not have minded during any other occasion. And she...supposed it was amusing how he was a walking contradiction, both urbane in his own right and an undiscovered clown caked to a near death experience with his own lethal paranoia. Her thoughts flicked back to her bizarre dream, remembering the scene that kept appearing behind her eyelids of the two of them sitting together like they had been inseparable companions for ages. As strained as it felt in the real world, it felt so natural being with him like she was, sitting beneath an orange sorbet sky filling the stifling air with endless quips. Even as she thought back to each of their interactions in the past, it wasn't as if their rare time together was truly that contrived.

The seconds ticked away steadily while the sun rose regally in the distance, and Starling kept entertaining the possibility of making the experience in her dream a reality. It was a very weird thing to notice really; the more she thought about him, the less foreign and freakish he seemed to her. In fact, in a way he was oddly fascinating. She had always been somewhat of an old fashioned woman, never straying too much from the beaten path, because there must be a good reason why traditional methods were used so much. In this case, she began wondering if such an approach was the right one. And though she would have loved to cling like a desperate baby to the confines of dead set ways, if there was one thing she learned being with the Storm Hawks, it was that sometimes the correct way is the most different.

Resting her head on folded arms, Starling smiled. Suddenly she didn't feel so uncomfortable anymore.

~ o ~

Being someone of a marginal need for rest, Starling found she could not get back to sleep, especially after such profound contemplation of her place on the _Condor_, as well as what sort of comrade she should strive to be for every member of her squadron. When the light settled upon the sky and ship in a sufficient position of illumination, the very sign the planet needed to properly begin its day, she got up and dressed in her casual uniform devoid of the armor she almost always wore even off the battlefield. She felt anxious, but it was a welcomed sensation coursing in surging bouts throughout her nerves. It made her feel alive and invigorated, the refreshing emotion giving her what she needed from now on. She didn't necessarily have a premeditated plan for what she would do the next time she saw him, but such unpreparedness didn't give her the licks of disgust that it once did.

She stepped carefully along the titanium floor and listened as various members of her squadron climbed through the ship's pipes setting their search for loose crystal inhibitors that had been slackened over the months ('and they're just fixing them _now_?' she thought with a wry smile). The open skies called for her, reconnaissance beyond their ship needed though not desperately, the truth remained that ever since she lost her first squadron, being a loner in the skies felt so much better, because if someone shot at her, only she and not her comrades would fall into the wastelands. Such a morbid thought, but she stuck to it just like all of her other archaic ways that were worthy of being laughed at, but in the end they were worth keeping close to her heart. As she made her way into the hanger, her heart skipped a beat as she saw Stork trying to wrench something out of his mobile. Sweat clung to his brow and his biceps pulsed as the stress of whatever he was trying to dislodge took its toll on his muscles. She wondered how long it would take for him to notice her presence, but a quick glance and a sputtered request for assistance snapped her out of her dream of spying on him while no one else was around as revenge for seeing her in her underwear.

"Hey, can you give me a hand with this?" Stork called out to her, his voice strangled.

Starling tilted her head for but a moment, wondering what on earth he was trying to displace on his ride. She then walked over with brusque steps, not saying a word to his request, taking a deep breath and gripping the seat of the mobile, dangerously aware of how their arms and hands were nearly touching. And how ridiculously clammy his skin felt even inches away from direct contact. Together they heaved and the seat broke lose, sending them flying backwards and onto the floor, where they became somewhat embroiled with Starling's leg brushing against his three toes and his hand dangerously close to her lilliputian bosoms. Before she could disentangle herself, Stork, who seemed oblivious to their precarious position immediately rose, feigning his focus on his mobile but she could see the faintest tint of forest green gracing his cheeks. The scene was nearly laughable, and she almost forgave him for unintentionally copping a feel.

"Ah HA!" He cried, awkwardly stepping over to view the compartment beneath his seat. "The eject function was screwed up for ages, and I found the culprit!" He said, a slightly crazed triumphant gleam in his eye as he immediately dove down into the mechanics arm first, pulling out the tiniest bent screw from the depths of his machine. Simply throwing it behind him, she heard it clink as it hit the floor, and she couldn't help but smile gently. Mechanics were always the unstable ones, she thought fondly, a memory of her own squadron caressing her frontal lobe for but an instant.

"All that because of a bent screw?" Starling challenged. "Perhaps you're not as good of a mechanic as everyone says you are." She smirked.

That actually seemed to offend him. He glared at her, picking up a wrench and pointing it at her as a teacher with a ruler would do to misbehaving child. "You're new, so I'll let that slide."

Starling didn't want to stop though. This was the first time she had ever spent so much time in his general vicinity without feeling like she was about to vomit from anxiety. She wanted more of his derisive tone, more of his personality to bleed through his xanthous eyes and awkward posture. "If it was in there in the first place, perhaps old age of the machine isn't the one to blame."

"Hey." He said, this time shaking his fist at her. "Don't make me read you some of my suicide inducing poetry."

In good nature and intentions, Starling could not help it. She laughed, _truly _laughed at such a hilarious threat, and before she could staunch it so it died away in her throat, Stork smirked.

"I knew it." He said in an almost whimsical fashion. "You're all bark and no bite."

"Oh? You're sure about that?" She said, her voice still heartily amused, but this time it adopted an almost lethal edge in its tenors.

"Not completely, but this is one of my few hunches that isn't caused by paranoia." He said with a crooked smile cut in half by the mantle of his greasy hair. "That has to count for something."

"It doesn't count for anything, Stork." Starling replied, voice turning icy. "You know nothing about me and you never will."

"Not true." He said, tapping his chin thoughtfully with his index finger. "I know that you prefer being alone, that you hate doing dishes, that you despise potty humor, and last but not least..."

He waved his wrench tauntingly in her face. "You're afraid of me."

"No." She retorted, lips pursing. She didn't like being made fun of.

"Admit it."

"NO!" And without thinking, she pushed him, and amazingly he barely lost any of his balance.

"Oh C'MON, that's just not fair!" He said, rubbing his chest where her painful shove made impact.

Starling outreached her hand and made a come hither motion. "I think it's perfectly fair. Why don't you show me that you're just as strong in your fists as you are with your runaway mouth?"

Stork rubbed his temples. "Women are insane..."

"We may be, but we also kick more arse."

She leaped at him, her dainty but powerful fist aiming for his face. Stork moved aside, his body so strangely curved that she was amazed he could incorporate such agility into what she thought were spindly limbs. As Stork whirled around and attempted to subdue her, she plunged her elbow into his ribcage, using the momentary pause of his pain to slam him against the wall. They both breathed heavily, Stork still twitching over the pain spreading like lightning bolts from the spot where she had elbowed him ruthlessly.

"I've finally got you." Starling said, suddenly noticing how much taller he was than her when he straightened his posture.

And in that moment, he surprised her, grabbing her arms with both hands and switching their positions. Starling gasped as her bath made impact with the wall, and then she was left to stare up into the face of a strained and rather confused Stork. They stared at each other for a few pregnant pauses, breathing heavily and watching as the sweat ran from both their temples.

"Everyone underestimates me. Even you." Stork said, labored breath falling from between his thin pasty lips.

"Yes...I did." She said, and she was unable to look him straight in the eye. She had lost.

"It's funny." He said, shaking his head as though he had trouble believing what had just happened. "You're the weirdest person I've ever met. And coming from me that's saying something."

Unable to control herself once again, she laughed. This whole business was so foolish and childish, that she could not help but laugh, which was finally a truly lyrical sound as she was amazed how her stress melted away from being at his mercy. He wouldn't hurt her. He was a Storm Hawk, and no matter how ghoulish his interests were, he never harmed the innocent.

_Though I can't exactly be called innocent._

A thought pulsed through her disquieted mind, something that would truly shock and abhor him, herself included. But in an instant she went for it, going back years into the past to a time when she was just a girl longing for justice, longing for something more than her impoverished existence, a time when impulsive behavior threw food for thought to the wind and the elixir for rationality down the drain. His eyes widened as she leaned her head forward, her own colorless lips, thin and gentle though chapped from neglect, pressed against his own. It didn't last long though, because Stork retreated backward, though not freeing her from her spot against the wall.

"Woa, WOA. Time OUT."

"What, too afraid to handle something as simple as a kiss?" Starling said, hiding her disappointment behind a veil of false bravado.

"How can you say that it's simple? I thought you hated me!"

"You fascinated me, that's all." She said simply, still burned from his initial rejection. She had thought it was meant to frighten him away, so why was she suddenly so hurt from his reaction?

"Women really are insane..."

"Personally I've grown to like these stupid games we play."

Stork said nothing to that, just stared everywhere but at her expression, eyes darting in all directions as though there was a typewriter in his mind trying to catch up to his thoughts to document them correctly.

"...If I kiss you, will you act normal for once?" He asked, eyes finally settling upon her and narrowing in consideration

"Are you sure you want to? Who knows what sorts of things I could be carrying. The possibilities, the risks." Starling said, squeezing one last bit of amusement out of the predicament before things turned serious and strange and inexorable.

"You're sick." Stork said, one of his faint brows quirking just slightly.

"And you're gullible."

So she leaned forward again, knowing that the 'stupid games they played' would soon no longer be filled with childish mirth. Their lips met, pressing against one another in an awkward display of a strange and bizarre truce conducted between both their puerile flaws. Starling had always been a mature woman, forever a mother hen whose stern and loving quintessence could handle anything. They pulled away, neither looking at the other, just lost in the haze of confusion and an unforgiving obscure feeling of inglorious misplacement.

"I..." Stork started.

"You..." She said, cutting herself off once she realized that neither of them had anything to say about what had just occurred.

And so she chose not to say anything at all. Firmly she pushed Stork's arms that had earlier pushed her against the wall away from her, and she left the hanger, hyperventilating as she frantically ran for her room. When she got there, she shut the door, locked it, and stood in the center of her room, heaving for several long minutes before her brain was finally able to properly evaluate what had just happened. She stayed there, standing, staring aimlessly for a long, long time. The sun's position had moved. Her name was called several times for assistance, but she dared not go outside the sanctity of her room again until she had some time to think. What was wrong with her? She had no right, and before then, no desire to anything like _that _with the Merb, and yet as they scuffled with their conversation wrought with challenging mockery, she felt shaky and uncouth with the knowledge that she now knew just _how _clammy a Merb's lips were. Her trance slowly receding like an ebbing tide against the shore of a black sand beach, she turned her head to the side, eying her bed, and like a zombie she sat on the edge.

The tussling sound of paper against steel reached her ears before she saw a familiarly folded piece of paper slip under her door. The seconds were long and tedious as she waited to retrieve it, knowing exactly who it was from and didn't know whether she wanted to read it. And yet, knowing that he had written her so soon, her body that felt like it had risen from the dead sparked and crackled with appreciative exhilaration. Unfolding it carefully, his handwriting was even more illegible than before, most likely due to the bizarre nature of their last encounter.

_- I didn't mean to scare you away. I've never done this sort of thing, and frankly the fact that it was you kind of weirds me out. I'm not saying you're undesirable or anything (actually...heh, quite the opposite),but it seems you truly gained a step ahead of me. Congratulations. _

_Stork. -_

Did she really do it just to catch him off guard? She wasn't so sure. So she tore away another piece of parchment and replied. Things were different now, change once again glaring her in the eye. She wasn't fond of change, and yet she instigated it. The irony was lethal.

_~ I didn't only do it to scare you. Just give me some time. I need to think._

_Starling. ~_

She slipped it under her door, knowing he was nearby, watching, waiting just like she was, so she had no reservations about the risks of anyone else taking the letter and using it to exploit her through immature songs about kissing and tree houses.

_Eventually the answers will come. I just have to be patient. _


End file.
